


Santa Baby

by brightdreamer



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: ColdFlash Secret Santa 2015, M/M, way too many puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5558600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightdreamer/pseuds/brightdreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry tries to be sneaky delivering a holiday gift to Captain Cold. Things don't quite go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WacheyPena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WacheyPena/gifts).



> For [wachypena](http://wacheypena.tumblr.com/)!  
> Prompt was:  
> Flash dressed as Santa and Len being the last person he gives a present to XD
> 
> Must Haves: smut (or at least implied), fluff, humor, some angst (not drenched in it tho), Barry being adorbs, and cold puns, gotta have cold puns XD  
> (I think I got most of that in there!)

Barry hadn’t intended on buying the hot chocolate and mini marshmallows. He’d been doing last minute Christmas shopping, resisting the urge to speed through the aisles of the grocery store as he picked up the required ingredients for Iris’s baking. Absently, he tossed the bag of marshmallows in the cart, not thinking about why he was even considering it. Not until he got home did he pull the marshmallows and cocoa out of the bag and set them on the table, looking at them askance as he unpacked the rest of the groceries. He didn’t even  _ like _ marshmallows in his hot chocolate, that’s why they hadn’t had any in the house when Snart had so impudently barged in… so why had he bothered buying some now?

Shaking his head, Barry tossed the marshmallows on the top shelf of the pantry and vowed not to think about them again.

Leonard Snart didn’t hate Christmas, necessarily. He’d just never had a truly happy memory of one. Childhood holidays usually involved his father getting even more drunk than usual, so Len had his hands full keeping Lisa out of his way and keeping his own head down. As an adult, holidays only meant more crowded shopping centers, which meant fuller bank deposit bags and more  _ opportunities _ . This year, however, he couldn’t even muster that much “holiday spirit”, leaving the traditional Christmas robbery to Lisa and Mick.  _ Guess I am doing a lousy job being the villain this week, after all _ , he thought with a rueful half-smile. 

No, he wasn’t going to go playing the hero, no matter how much one certain  _ Barry Allen _ might insist, no matter how much his eyes begged Len to find the good and his lip nearly trembled…  _ no. _ Len wasn’t swayed by such things. He just. Didn’t feel like planning a heist this Christmas. He’d just stay here in the undecorated safehouse and… clean his cold gun. Again. 

“You want me to do what?” Barry shook his head, hands up, looking askance at the monstrosity Cisco was holding up.

“Aw, c’mon, Barry. It’s for charity!” Cisco was grinning, and Caitlin was nodding enthusiastically behind him. “And I modified the suit so it’s out of the same stuff as your usual one, so it won’t catch on fire with your speed.”

“I think I’m a little skinny to play Santa, don’t you?” Barry protested, but he was already reaching out to take the fluffy suit. He couldn’t say no to the combined forces of both Caitlin and Cisco. “Fine, what do I have to do?”

Soon, he was racing through the streets, feeling utterly ridiculous in a flame-resistant Santa suit, streaks of lightning crackling around him as he clutched a bag of wrapped packages in his hands. After the Trickster’s unfortunate “gifts” had turned out to be bombs, a quick charity drive had been organized to replace the presents for the children of Central City. Of course, half the fun was letting the kids catch a glimpse of him putting the gift under the tree, so delighted squeals followed him, echoing in his ears. He found himself grinning, darting from house to house, breezing in and out, laughter and merriment dancing in the lightning behind him.

Finally done with Santa delivery, Barry returned home, tugging the fluffy beard down from his chin and pushing the hat/cowl back off his head. Still buzzing with the rush, he headed to the kitchen, intent on finding a snack of some sort, maybe see if Iris had left any brownies or had started on Christmas cookies yet or maybe Linda might have come over to help with baking…

Pausing by the pantry, he zeroed in on the bag of marshmallows, the cocoa sitting innocently beside. A slow grin spread over his face… what better way to get back at Cold than to have Santa break into his house? Barry was well aware of where Snart was staying, he’d had Cisco keep tabs on him after his “early release” from Iron Heights. In a flash, he had the cocoa and marshmallows wrapped up in a neat package, and was out the door for his last stop.

Len was cold. Not his namesake, not the chill he always felt, but a deep cold, down to his core, a chill that he couldn’t shake. He’d drifted off to sleep, curled on the couch, the cold gun set aside on the table and his parka draped over him like a blanket, but now he shivered, brow furrowing as he fought the deep freeze of his nightmare.

_ The power had been turned off, days ago. Len had gathered up all the blankets in the house and made a nest for himself and Lisa, on the floor of the living room, but the temperature kept dropping and his sister couldn’t stop shivering. Snow fell outside and the cheerful lights from the neighbor’s Christmas decorations blinked in the windows and Len could see his breath in front of his face as he huddled under the blankets with Lisa.  _

_ He had to get her warm. He could stand the cold, but her lips were turning blue. Sneaking out of the house to steal firewood from the neighbor’s pile was easy, lighting the wet wood in the fireplace wasn’t. Smoke nearly choked them until Len got the flue opened properly, but the flames eventually danced merrily in front of them. He’d just smiled and whispered “Merry Christmas, sis,” when the door burst open and the drunken figure of their father staggered in.  _

_ The beating Len got that time was nearly worth it, because he’d been able to see his sister smile and see warmth creep back into her face. But he never quite felt warm again, especially not around Christmas. _

It didn’t take Barry more than a moment to vibrate open the lock on the safehouse door where Snart was staying, though he stepped inside quietly. The place was mostly dark, save for a small lamp shining in the living room, and Barry wondered if Cold was even around.  _ Probably out doing some sort of holiday heist, _ he thought with a shake of his head, creeping quietly into the foyer. 

He was mildly surprised at the lack of decorations… maybe Snart and his sister didn’t feel like putting up a tree or lights in a temporary place? Still, with the way Snart had acted when breaking in to Barry’s house the other day, Barry thought he’d have at least a  _ little _ holiday spirit. Shrugging, he moved around the couch, intent on placing the small wrapped package on the coffee table. 

A quiet, breathy moan startled him, and he very nearly flashed right back out the door. Instead, he froze, turning cautiously. He blinked in surprise upon seeing Snart curled on the couch, asleep, brow furrowed as he shifted restlessly. Carefully, Barry placed the gift on the table next to the cold gun and turned to leave, but another soft cry stopped him in his tracks. Moving closer, he frowned, tugging the white Santa beard down again as he watched Snart more closely. The other man was shivering, but a faint sheen of sweat shone on his forehead. Was he sick? Even if not, he was obviously distressed, curling up tight and murmuring incoherently. 

Barry couldn’t leave him this way, even if he was ostensibly his enemy. (Was he, still? Barry couldn’t be sure anymore.) Crouching beside the couch, he first made certain that the cold gun was out of immediate reach (he had no desire to be frozen in place), then stretched out his hand hesitantly. “Snart, hey…” He touched his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

Snart’s eyes snapped open, instantly alert. He was on his feet, cold gun in his hand, aimed, and Barry was across the room, scrambling back at high speed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s just me, Snart! Flash… Barry!” Realizing how ridiculous he must look in the Santa costume, Barry ripped off the wig and hat completely, then held his hands out in a placating gesture. 

“Barry…” Snart tilted his head, stretching out the name as usual, then lowered the gun, powering it down. His shoulders dropped fractionally as he seemed to relax. “What the hell are you doing in my house, and… what are you wearing?”

“I, ah…” Barry felt heat creep onto his face. This was nothing like being caught by a giggling child. “I brought you a present?” He gestured toward the small box on the table. 

Snart’s eyebrows shot up, and a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. “What, Santa brings me a gift for good behavior? Sure there’s not coal in there?”

Barry huffed out a short breath, stepping forward and raking his hand through his hair. “No, there’s not. And…” He didn’t want to get into this, not now. But Snart had left it wide open, hadn’t he? “I’ve said it before, I know there’s good in you. You just haven’t let yourself find it, yet.” He knew Snart was leaning that way, hadn’t he proved it when he warned Barry of the plot against him? Even if he wouldn’t help stop Mardon and Jesse, he’d taken a step in the right direction.

Len narrowed his eyes, stepping around the side of the coffee table toward Barry. Was Barry really going to start this again? Now? “You don’t know anything about me,” he said. “I’m Cold. I steal and betray and hurt people. That’s what I  _ do _ .” Any good in him had been beaten out by his father, long ago. Any shred of hope, of decency, of warmth, those were met with a fist or cut out with shards of a liquor bottle. 

“That’s  _ not _ all you do,” Barry protested, meeting Len’s step forward with one of his own, and oh, was the speedster angry now? “You’re so full of shit. You obviously care about your sister. You’ve had every opportunity to kill me, and you haven’t. You even warned me and kept me safe.”

“Maybe I just like having you around,” Len replied, still smirking. It was far too easy to get Barry riled up. “Or maybe I’ve got some use for you, keeping you on ice for now.” 

Barry shook his head. “That’s not it, and you know it. You’re going to be a hero someday, I know it. I can feel it.”

Len’s smirk faded. “You don’t know anything about me,” he repeated, voice lowering into a growl, now close enough to Barry to see his eyes widen in shock. “There’s nothing heroic in me. There’s no good, you’re only seeing what you want to see.” He pointed at Barry, finger leveled at his face. “You’ll never make me into what you want.”

“What I  _ want _ …” Barry’s voice was raised now, angry or upset, Len couldn’t tell. “I  _ want _ for you to stop doubting yourself! I  _ want _ you to know you’re not just some cold, evil villain!” He stepped forward again, and his hands came up to Len’s chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his sweater. “I  _ want _ you to realize you’re not your father, that you can be  _ better _ , that you can be  _ more _ !” 

Len stared at Barry, at his flushed cheeks, his eyes wide and bright with… something more than anger, now. His lips were trembling just slightly, and oh, why was Len staring at his lips? And when had his own hand moved from pointing at Barry to grasping the ridiculous fluff at the collar of his Santa suit? Len shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold, this time.

“You sure that’s… all you want, Barry?” 

Oh no. Oh no no no this wasn’t the way Barry had intended things to go. How the hell had he ended up like this, practically clutching at Snart, pressed close to him in the center of his living room, wearing a stupid goddamn Santa suit. He felt the slight shudder run through the other man’s frame, and oh shit, he should let go, he should move away, run away, far away, get out of here and think this over and figure out why the hell his heart was pounding so fast and his face was so hot and his breath was catching in his throat.

But Barry never ran away when he could run forward. Crashing headlong into things, wasn’t that his way? Tightening his fingers in the soft fabric of the other’s sweater, he pulled him forward, crushing his mouth over Snart’s in a bruising, rough kiss. 

Snart met the kiss with just as much force, all teeth and tongue, demanding control that Barry wasn’t willing to relinquish. Calling on the speed force for just a moment, Barry pushed forward, slamming Snart back into the wall and diving back into the kiss. A harsh groan was his reward, and Snart’s arms wrapped around his back and waist, pulling him in tight. Barry ground his hips forward, gasping between their mouths at the contact, his pants already feeling far too constricting. 

Len hadn’t expected things to go this way either, but he certainly wasn’t complaining, now. Anger sublimated into lust, desire surging as he clutched at Barry, pulling him close as though he wanted to merge their bodies into one. His hands roamed over the speedster’s back, feeling him practically vibrate in his arms… no, that wasn’t  _ practically _ , Barry actually had vibrated, just a bit, as their hips crashed together and arousal became obvious. Pulling back and finally breaking the kiss, Len focused on Barry’s face, green eyes dark with lust, cheeks brightly flushed and lips swollen and damp. “Not gonna speed off on me, are ya?”

Barry glanced down and away, shivering… no,  _ vibrating _ again. “No, um… it’s… I kinda can’t control…” He started to draw away, fingers untangling from Len’s shirt. “It’s weird, right? I shouldn’t… we shouldn’t, anyway…”

Oh, fuck that. Len gripped Barry tighter, dragging him close and slamming another bruising kiss down onto his lips. “Don’t go cold on me now,” he murmured into the breath’s space between them. 

Barry chuckled softly, his hands moving back to Len’s chest. “Don’t think we’re going too fast?”

Len smirked, one hand sliding down to grip Barry’s ass and squeeze lightly, the odd fabric of the Santa suit stretching under his fingers. “I’m cool with it.” 

Barry actually snorted with laughter at that, shaking his head. “Okay, enough with the puns.” He dropped his hands to Snart’s waist, fingers sliding just under the hem of his sweater, tracing over firm muscle along his back. Leaning in, he kissed him again, slower, less desperate, no anger this time. Deliberately, he traced his tongue along Snart’s lower lip, then nipped lightly, feeling the other man tense and shudder under his touch.

When Snart pushed away from the wall, this time Barry didn’t stop him. Walking backward, he didn’t break contact until he felt his legs bump the coffee table. Snart stepped back, looking Barry up and down with a raised eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to lose the suit, Santa.” 

Barry had nearly forgotten he wasn’t wearing his usual Flash gear. “Oh! Uh… yeah.” In a blink, he had the suit off and tossed aside, leaving him in nothing but his grey boxer-briefs. Deciding that this wasn’t entirely fair, he stripped Snart’s shirt off as well and unbuttoned his pants before returning to normal speed, grinning at the other man. 

Len hadn’t expected to find himself half-undressed as well, but he wasn’t complaining, not when Barry was standing nearly naked in front of him now, all lean muscle and tousled hair. He let his gaze travel up and down the other’s body appreciatively, from the long, strong legs to the rather obvious bulge in his underwear to his toned stomach and chest… ah, Barry was crossing his arms, looking slightly self-conscious. “Chill, Barry. Just enjoying the view.” 

Barry rolled his eyes, though a smile brightened his face. “Thought I said enough with the puns, huh?” He stepped forward, trailing one hand lightly down Len’s arm, raising goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips. “So, we gonna continue this out here, or…?”

Len considered the couch for a moment, then shook his head. “Bedroom. Down the hall.” The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a rush of air and he found himself flat on his back in the middle of his bed, Barry perched above him on hands and knees with a satisfied grin. “Never gonna get used to that.”

“Hey, it’s efficient,” Barry replied, then he was leaning down, lips meeting Len’s again, body settling lightly onto his. Len tilted his head into the kiss, hands coming up to roam over Barry’s back, pulling him down tighter, deeper, urgency returning with every touch. He rocked his hips up, his cloth-trapped arousal brushing and rubbing against Barry’s, Barry grinding down to meet him, soft gasps and groans building between their mouths. 

He needed more than this, wanted Barry completely, how long had he wanted him? How long had he needed this? He didn’t care, didn’t want to think, only wanted to feel and take and claim. Surging upward, he tightened one arm around Barry’s waist as he rolled them on the bed, flipping Barry onto his back, blankets shifting and twisting beneath them.

Barry gasped as he abruptly found their positions reversed, Snart now above him, kneeling between his thighs. Though they were similar in height, he was now reminded of how much heavier and broader Snart was, thick muscle of his arms and chest pressing him down to the bed. It sent a thrill through him, a rush like when they fought, a high now deepening the throbbing ache in his cock. Arching up, he tightened his legs over Snart’s hips, feeling the rough rub of the fabric of his pants, the answering hardness pressing against his own. “You’re wearing too much,” he complained breathlessly, reaching down to push impatiently at the zipper of Snart’s pants. 

“Suppose I am,” Snart responded, pushing back to his knees. Barry whined at the loss of contact, but watched in anticipation as the other man stripped out of his pants and underwear, leaving him finally naked above Barry. A quick movement, and Barry had his last scrap of clothing gone as well, and he reached up to pull Snart…  _ Len _ down on top of him again. Reaching between them, he wrapped his hand around both of their lengths, groaning at the feeling of Len’s heat pressed against him. Stroking lightly, he let his hand vibrate, just a bit, and the gasp and shudder from Len was enough to drag another groan from his own throat. 

Barry could come, just like this, he knew, rocking against Len, vibrating his hand, rutting together until they both fell apart. It wouldn’t take long, not with how much he wanted him, not with the way pleasure was already building and creeping up his spine. But he needed… he  _ wanted _ more. He wanted to show Len that he trusted him, that he felt… that he  _ knew _ …

“Have you got…?” he let the question trail off, reluctantly stilling his hand before pulling it away.

Len blinked, shuddering as he tried to pull his thoughts back into order. Barry’s hand vibrating on him had felt amazing, mind-blowing even, and he had half a thought to tell him to just keep going like that. But… Barry was asking…?

Len wasn’t about to say no, not when Barry was spread out beneath him, naked and panting and gorgeous. “Yeah. Hang on.” He couldn’t even pull together a pun for that, but it didn’t matter. Sliding off the bed, he moved to the tiny dresser, rummaging for a moment before returning with lube and a condom. “You’ve done this before?”

Barry nodded, but bit his lip. “Been awhile.”

Len spread a liberal amount of the lube over his fingers, the cool gel slippery between them. “Right.” An uncertain, strange feeling clutched at his heart… he did not want to hurt Barry, not like this. He’d hurt him enough. But wouldn’t this prove that he was nothing more than a villain, the cold-hearted bastard he claimed to be? If he simply took him roughly, without regard for his comfort, couldn’t that prove it, wouldn’t that make Barry leave him alone? He hesitated, still rubbing the cool liquid between his fingers.

As though reading his thoughts, Barry reached up, grasping his wrist lightly. “You won’t hurt me,” he said softly, but firmly. “I trust you.” Tugging on Len’s hand, he guided his fingers down, urging him to circle around his entrance. 

Len huffed out a short breath, but allowed Barry to lead him. “You shouldn’t,” he murmured, but his fingers were already moving, gentle, pressing and stretching without force. 

Barry tossed his head back, a deep moan rumbling in his throat as his hand clutched at the pillow beside his face. Len’s fingers were strong and sure, opening him up with a pleasant burn. Soon, he found himself rocking back against those long, slick fingers, needing more, needing to be filled completely. “Nnn… c’mon, m’ready…” Even as he asked, Len’s fingers worked deeper, stretching him wider, brushing against a spot inside that made him cry out and arch on the bed. “Fuck, Snart, Len, enough, I need…!” But those maddening fingers continued to slide in and out, easing him open further, and Barry was nearly ready to roll Len onto his back and “goddamn it Len if you don’t get your cock in me right now m’gonna flip you over and ride you I swear to god…” 

A deep chuckle from above him, and the fingers finally withdrew. “S’that a promise?” 

Barry forced his eyes open and was about to make good on his threat but then there was a blunt, thick heat pressing into him, bigger and hotter than Len’s fingers, and Barry groaned, hands flying up to clutch at Len’s shoulders. He could do little more than gasp as Len pushed in, inch by inch, each small thrust sending him impossibly deeper. “Nnn… god…” Everything was fading in and out, slow to fast, and he knew he was vibrating all over, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t control it, could only hang on. 

Len watched Barry’s face for any signs of pain as he slowly was engulfed in his heat, struggling to resist the urge to simply thrust forward and take him completely. When he was nearly fully seated, Barry’s body blurred, vibrating around him, and Len couldn’t hold back the gasp from his own throat. Rocking forward, he fought back the need to come right then and there, the tremors from Barry nearly overwhelming. Finally, finally, he was completely inside, and he held still, though his body was screaming at him to move, to slam into Barry over and over. “Fuck, Barry, you feel so good,” he murmured, bracing himself on his elbows above the other man. 

For a long moment, the only sound was Barry’s breath, panting harshly in Len’s ear. Then Barry rolled his hips up, no longer vibrating, but with some measure of control. “S’gonna be even better when you  _ move _ ,” he said insistently, but with a hint of a smile in his voice. 

Len didn’t need to be told twice. Meeting Barry’s rock of his hips, he drew back and thrust forward again, dragging a combined gasp from the both of them. Again, then again, and he set a steady rhythm, hard but not too fast, deep and strong, needing to make this last, even if it was for only this one night.

Barry drew his knees up, wrapping his legs around Len’s hips and pulling him in, urging him down harder, faster. His own cock dripped against his stomach, straining for needed friction between their bodies, and Barry wanted to reach down and stroke himself but couldn’t let go of Len, needed to hold him, needed to feel his heat above him and in his hands, keeping him grounded and solid. “...aah... faster…” he gasped, then cried out as Len’s cock struck the right angle inside him, setting off fireworks in his vision.

“You would want… faster,” Len panted into his neck, but sped up his thrusts, deeper still, one hand gripping Barry’s hip to pull him up to meet each stroke. 

Barry was lost, falling into the waves of pleasure, each crest taking him higher and higher and he was going to fall and the world was going to slow down or he was going to go too fast and explode but Len was there, holding him and keeping him to earth. Unable to bear it any longer, he finally shoved his hand between their bodies, fingers vibrating over his straining cock, once, twice, and then he was coming hard, shaking as though he would fly apart, crying out his pleasure to the dark ceiling. Bright spots danced in his vision and lightning crackled around him and everything,  _ everything _ , was centered on the feeling of Len above him, inside him, surrounding him.

Len stilled for a moment as Barry writhed beneath him, holding him tight, watching the expressions of ecstasy wash over his face. Then Barry’s body was clenching around him, thrumming with energy, and Len couldn’t hold back. Groaning against the sweat-damp skin of Barry’s neck, he slammed into him hard, fast, letting himself fall into the heat and overwhelming pleasure. He heard Barry moan beneath him, and the other’s nails dug into his back, scratching lightly, the edge of pain pushing him even further. The world went white as his climax crashed over him, waves sweeping over him in deep, hard pulses.

Barry came back to earth a long moment later, feeling Len slowly pull out of him. He groaned quietly at the loss, then rolled to his side as Len took care of the condom. He was considering moving away and cleaning up, but was startled as a strong arm wrapped around him and a warm, wet cloth swiped over his stomach. Rolling back to face Len, Barry smiled up at him. “Y’know, you wouldn’t be treating me this good if you were all bad,” he said, poking him lightly in the arm.

Len rolled his eyes, then tossed the towel off to the corner of the room. “Still insisting there’s good in me, huh?”

Barry nodded. “Not gonna give up on you.”

Len smirked, unable to resist. “I’d say, this time, there was some  _ bad _ in  _ you _ tonight.”

Barry’s eyes widened, then he laughed and smacked Len lightly on the arm. “At least that wasn’t a cold pun, so I’ll give you that.”

Flopping back on the bed, Len grabbed the rumpled blanket and tugged it over their cooling bodies. He didn’t expect Barry to stay the night, but Barry curled up next to him and rested on his shoulder, and that was fine for now. “Merry Christmas, Barry.”

Barry kissed Len’s cheek, then draped his arm across his chest and nuzzled closer to his neck. “Merry Christmas, Len.”


End file.
